


The Scent of You

by OhZee



Series: The Scent of You [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Explicit Consent, Geralt always drinks his respect omegas juice, Geralt is not an overbearing alpha, Getting Together, Jaskier is not a shrinking violet, Knotting, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse, Rimming, Scent Kink, everyone has a good time, this is pretty sweet for an a/b/o fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhZee/pseuds/OhZee
Summary: Jaskier usually plans ahead if they're going to be out in the wilderness a while. This time, he didn't think they'd be gone so long. To be fair, neither did Geralt. When Jaskier runs out of scent blockers, Geralt tries to be helpful. Certain boundaries are stumbled past by both parties and revelations ensue.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Scent of You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942909
Comments: 20
Kudos: 800





	The Scent of You

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't even set out to write an a/b/o fic, but here we are. I’m probably playing a little fast and loose with the rules of the omegaverse, but whatever. We came here to have fun, right? There will eventually be a sequel.

Jaskier wasn’t surprised that Geralt had noticed it as soon as he got back to camp. Nothing was expressly out of the ordinary; Roach was grazing, the fire was burning hot, there were no unwelcome intruders, but Jaskier’s distress must have smelled like a beacon to the witcher.

Moreover, Jaskier’s scent was _strong_ , the intensity of the sweet, warm smell likely akin to running into a brick wall with senses as keen as Geralt’s. He must have realized immediately that the subtle, tangy scent of Jaskier’s scent blockers were absent entirely, offering an explanation that only raised obvious questions.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier hadn’t been paying attention to his surroundings, too busy pacing and fretting, and he startled in his distracted state. He eased as soon as he saw it was only Geralt. Geralt looked him over in concern as he approached, finding him whole and uninjured, just visibly out of sorts and upset.

“What happened? Your blockers are gone. I can smell you all the way across the clearing.”

Jaskier’s expression pinched, his shoulders drooping at the confirmation.

“I ran out. Took the last one yesterday morning. I was hoping it would last a little longer, but I see we’re yet unsuccessful in this hunt.” He looked pointedly at Geralt’s empty hands, which did not contain a trophy of the elusive monster they’d been tracking for a fortnight now.

Geralt frowned and shook his head in confirmation. The monster was frustrating to them both, but to Geralt especially, who was unaccustomed to being so deftly outpaced. Usually he’d be in a foul mood after failing for yet another long day, but his concern seemed to be taking precedence.

“I’m going to enjoy finally killing this fucking thing when I manage to corner it,” he griped. “But you always have a good supply, how did you run out?”

Jaskier sighed, looking a little aggrieved.

“Geralt, it’s been two weeks since we’ve seen civilization. I can only carry so many scent blockers at one time, and I was already low because I didn’t have enough coin when we visited that last market. Neither of us expected this hunt to take so long.”

Jaskier realized he was hugging himself, feeling terribly vulnerable. He didn’t like being without the blockers at all. He trusted Geralt, but once they were done with this hunt and they got back into town, every interested alpha would be able to smell that Jaskier was an unclaimed omega. It shouldn’t make a difference in a civilized society, but sadly it still did. He would be lucky to get through a whole day without being harrassed. He could fight if he had to, and Geralt would certainly protect him from any alpha crude enough to try and press him, but that wasn’t the point. The point was he didn’t want to have to deal with it. No one should have to deal with being treated like a sexual object.

Judging by the concerned look on Geralt’s face, his thoughts were traveling along the same road. Making a thoughtful humming noise, he began to go through his usual routine of removing his swords and armor as Jaskier resumed his pacing. But instead of drawing his swords to polish and sharpen them as usual, Geralt instead eventually sat with his back against a log and spread his legs, patting the ground in front of him.

“Come sit with me then, let me get my scent on you.”

Jaskier stopped in his tracks, eyebrows raising. “What?”

Geralt huffed. “If you’re covered in my scent, unclaimed or not, no sane alpha will dare approach you.”

It was true, Jaskier realized. A witcher’s scent was intimidating even to other alphas. If Jaskier were doused in Geralt’s pheromones, even a very cocky alpha wouldn’t press his luck. But to achieve that level of saturation, they’d need to keep close contact, possibly for the next few days. Much closer than normal.

Well, that was fine. Geralt would never hurt him, and it was a clean enough solution to the problem. It chafed a little that it was necessary, but Jaskier was world-weary enough that he wouldn’t complain.

Jaskier joined Geralt on the ground, settling between his legs and shifting back so that he pressed fully against Geralt’s front. Geralt waited for him to get comfortable, then wrapped his arms around his middle and hooked his chin over Jaskier’s shoulder, holding him close.

Jaskier sighed, relaxing fully into the embrace. It was nice to be held like this. If he’d been with a different alpha, the vice-like strength of Geralt’s huge arms would have felt like a prison. But with Geralt he just felt secure, as if nothing could harm him. And his scent was intense, but not overwhelming. It didn’t make him uneasy, despite the tinge of overt warning it held so constantly. It smelled… good. It always did.

For a time they remained like that, watching the fire as Jaskier’s worries ebbed away and he chatted lightly about nothing in particular. Geralt occasionally offered a hum or a little huff of laughter that jolted pleasantly against Jaskier’s back. It was a good long while before Jaskier glanced at Geralt in his peripheral and caught Geralt’s nostrils flaring, a little too close to his neck. He paused in surprise.

“Are you scenting me?” Jaskier asked, amused despite the imposition. He could actually see Geralt flush out of the corner of his eye, and that was quite a novelty.

“Sorry,” he murmured, “Couldn’t help it. You always smell good, and it’s so much stronger without the blockers.”

When they’d first met, Jaskier had been horrified to discover that Geralt could smell him through the blockers. Geralt had him pegged as an unclaimed omega from day one, but only brought it up on day five. He’d mentioned it for practical reasons, cautioning Jaskier that if he insisted on traveling with him, sometimes they’d stray from civilization for a time, so Jaskier should keep stocked up on blockers and heat suppressants. But Jaskier had panicked at first, thinking that his blockers had failed entirely and exposed him. 

It was the first time he’d ever seen Geralt be gentle, putting aside his usual gruffness. Everything about his demeanor had softened, becoming deliberately less threatening in the face of a frightened omega. He’d kept an appropriate distance for Jaskier’s comfort as he’d explained that a witcher’s senses were too heightened to be fooled by blockers. He could smell Jaskier’s true scent as an undertone while identifying the blockers for exactly what they were. But no regular alpha would be able to tell the difference, he’d assured. Jaskier’s coin had been well spent.

It had been reassuring in one respect, and still deeply alarming in another. Jaskier had only approached Geralt so confidently because of the blockers. To know that he’d strode right up to an alpha that smelled so strongly of aggression and danger while that alpha could _clearly identify his designation_ made him feel faint. Geralt could easily have forced him if Jaskier’s estimation of his character had been wrong. Jaskier wouldn’t have stood a chance.

But Geralt hadn’t. Geralt hadn’t treated him as anything less than an equal - a somewhat annoying and unasked for traveling companion that he reluctantly liked - from the word go. There’d not been one inappropriate touch, one wandering look. He hadn’t once spoken down to him for his status or made any lewd suggestions. He bickered with Jaskier in the same friendly, gruff way he’d bicker with another alpha.

That had helped the most in putting Jaskier at ease. They’d been on the road for days at that point, not another soul in sight more often than not. If Geralt had wanted to take advantage of him, he’d had every opportunity and hadn’t taken it.

Jaskier still trusted he wouldn’t take it now, but he found himself… curious.

“What do I smell like?” he asked, very aware that he was opening an invitation to Geralt he’d never opened before. Geralt knew it too, by the way he was still and silent at his back for several moments, only the sound of their breathing disturbing the song of the insects in the night.

Then Geralt dipped his head, inhaling deeply as his nose brushed the curve of Jaskier’s neck. Jaskier shivered, and not with discomfort.

“Like… spiced chestnuts. Vetiver and honey. A warm spring day.” Geralt’s voice was low and even rougher than normal when he spoke. Jaskier swallowed hard, a heat stirring low in his belly. He took in a deep breath, Geralt’s alpha scent trickling down the back of his throat, and he thought to return the favor.

“You smell like…” Jaskier paused to consider. He felt Geralt tense a little, bracing himself for something unflattering. The truth was, Geralt smelled like _strength_. Like power. Like something untamed that could rend and kill. There was a reason so many people feared witchers. It wasn’t just their eyes, it was something in their scent, so _alpha_ that it made even other alphas flinch. But there was a note of something beneath it in Geralt, something Jaskier found comforting. As Geralt’s scent washed over him he felt as if he were embraced in the eye of a hurricane. All that threatened him would perish by the same force of nature that wrapped sweetly around him and carressed him softly as a breeze. As softly as Geralt’s breath against his neck.

“You smell like petrichor,” Jaskier continued huskily, speaking it aloud as it dawned on him. “Like ozone and musk. Like… being wrapped in furs in front of a fire while a storm rages outside.”

He dared to turn his head to look at Geralt and was immediately captured by the ragged heat in his eyes. He looked unmoored, as if Jaskier had unexpectedly handed him something precious he would always treasure even as he wanted to consume it.

Jaskier’s heart rabbitted in his chest as he felt something in him break open like a dam, but Jaskier wasn’t swept away. He was held tight in his alpha’s arms.

 _Oh_.

His alpha.

Then Geralt’s lips were on him, ravenous, his tongue pressing past Jaskier’s teeth, and Jaskier surrendered gladly.

He’d never submitted to an alpha before. He’d embraced his status as an omega only so far as he refused to be ashamed of it but also refused to let it limit him. He’d tumbled freely with betas, but alphas too often wanted to possess him. It had only taken one bad experience with Valdo Marx – one he’d barely escaped – to swear off alphas entirely.

But Geralt. Geralt could have him. Jaskier _wanted_ Geralt to have him. Wanted Geralt to bear him down onto the bedroll and sink inside him and take his pleasure. The thought made Jaskier shudder with arousal. He could feel the slick begin to leak from him and Geralt made a feral noise into his mouth, fully capable of smelling it.

Dizzy with desire, Jaskier abruptly found himself on his back, the bedroll beneath him. Geralt’s hands were pulling at his clothes and Jaskier wiggled and fumbled as best he could to help get them off. They were suddenly scratchy, even the smooth silk too harsh on his skin. He only wanted to feel Geralt against him, the calluses on his fingers playing him like an instrument as they explored him greedily.

Geralt’s mouth was on his neck and Jaskier arched his head back, bearing his throat. Geralt took the invitation, sucking and biting bruises into the vulnerable flesh. None were a claiming bite, but something to soothe the urge. He knew with absolute certainty that even in the frenzy of this sudden coupling, Geralt wouldn’t claim him without his permission.

Geralt left fire in his wake as he traveled down Jaskier’s body. Every touch burned him in a way he’d never felt before, made him ache madly. He pressed back into every one, needy sounds tumbling unconsciously from his throat.

Then Geralt was between his legs. Jaskier couldn’t even remember spreading them, but now Geralt’s hands were like brands on his thighs as he lifted them up, pushing them wider. He had Jaskier nearly folded in half, and whatever Jaskier expected him to do next, it wasn’t to dip his head down and plunge his tongue greedily into Jaskier’s wet hole.

It tore a shout from Jaskier’s lips, the sensation both sudden and overwhelming. Geralt was _fucking him with his tongue_ and it felt so fucking incredible that Jaskier was sure he could come just like this. He wailed and writhed, unable to control himself, but Geralt held his hips firm as steel, keeping them still as he lapped up Jaskier’s juices as if it was a feast he’d been starving for. 

Jaskier was on the edge of orgasm when Geralt finally pulled back. He nearly protested, a frankly embarrassing whine leaving his lips. But then Geralt sat up and practically ripped his breeches open to free his cock. It was huge and hard and weeping. Jaskier’s mouth watered. The idea of choking on it was suddenly incredibly appealing. The idea of Geralt plowing into him with it was even better. But Geralt paused, squeezing his hip.

“Jaskier,” he rumbled, barely restrained but still asking. Still making sure. Jaskier met his eyes, fully cognizant even through the haze of lust.

“Fuck me, Geralt,” he panted, “Please, alpha.”

Something snapped in Geralt’s expression. He lifted Jaskier’s hips clear off the ground, hovering over Jaskier as he positioned himself. Their eyes remained locked together as Geralt pressed forward, his cock pushing past the tight ring of muscle before sliding smoothly inside. Jaskier made a ragged noise as Geralt filled him up to the brim. He wrapped his legs around his alpha and dug his heels into his bottom, encouraging him to push in deeper.

Geralt groaned, sheathed to the hilt. For a moment they remained like that, adjusting to the incredible sensation. Then Geralt rocked his hips and Jaskier saw stars.

The rest was a haze of pure sensation as Geralt fucked him slow, then faster, his hips snapping hard as the pleasure built. Jaskier could do nothing but make a litany of incoherent noises interspersed occasionally with Geralt’s name, or _yes_ , or _alpha_. He clung tightly, drawing lines of red across Geralt’s scarred back. That seemed to please the witcher, drawing forth a guttural rendition of Jaskier’s name.

With every stroke Geralt seemed to grow bigger inside him, and Jaskier belatedly realized that was exactly what was happening. Geralt’s knot was growing inside him, catching on Jaskier’s rim and hooking him inside. The insistent press of it was too much, and with a choked cry Jaskier burst with a completion that made his ears ring.

Geralt fucked him through it, grinning madly, until he lost rhythm and spilled hard inside Jaskier with a shout. 

He fell on top of him in a satisfied heap, trapping him with his weight as they slowly caught their breath. His knot kept him snugly buried inside.

Jaskier had never taken a knot before. He hadn’t imagined it would feel so perfectly satisfying, but by the gods it did. He felt… indescribable. He wouldn’t catch; as a male omega he was as sterile as Geralt, and thank fuck for it. But there was still something about having Geralt’s seed sunk deep inside him that just felt _right_.

Geralt’s full weight was satisfying too. It didn’t feel like he was being smothered at all. It felt amazing. He wrapped his limbs more firmly around his alpha and began running his fingers through Geralt’s long white hair, silently demanding they stay just like this for a while. Geralt made a pleased rumbling noise. They didn’t move from that position for a long time.

The fire was burning low by the time they disentangled. Geralt’s knot had deflated slowly, his spend leaking from Jaskier as he’d finally slipped free. Still they hadn’t moved much until things had begun to dry and become itchy, threatening to glue them together. They both made discontented noises as they separated, searching for cloth and water and hastily throwing more kindling on the fire, but they came back together quickly. Geralt insisted on cleaning Jaskier, wiping him down gently. Jaskier couldn’t find the strength to protest, his usual assertion of independence abandoning him in the face of the care Geralt was showing him.

It felt good to be taken care of. It felt good to have an alpha. A _good_ alpha, one he trusted, one he– One he loved.

There was a flutter in his stomach as he thought it, but he knew it was true. He loved Geralt, and if he wasn’t wholly mistaken, Geralt loved him. Even if Geralt never bit him, never claimed him officially, he belonged to Geralt. He would never belong to any other alpha.

Geralt’s bedroll was wet and stained, but they had two and only needed one now. Geralt pulled him onto Jaskier’s, where they fell into a tangled embrace as they lay down together, absently covering themselves with a blanket. Geralt nuzzled at his neck and Jaskier breathed him in deep. Suddenly, Geralt chuckled against his shoulder.

“Mmm, what?” Jaskier muttered, a smile tugging at his lips as his eyes drooped.

“I don’t think we have to worry about getting you to smell like me now,” Geralt said, humor rich in his voice.

Jaskier blinked hard, and then they shook with laughter together. “No, I think that’s done the trick.”

Even if the hunt took another week, Jaskier had no doubt he’d be in Geralt’s bed again the next night, and the night after. By the time they made it back to town, he’d be so thoroughly marked by Geralt’s scent that no alpha would dare approach Jaskier without Geralt’s permission, lack of a claiming bite be damned. And while in one sense that grated on Jaskier – he was no possession – it also made him feel safe. Truly safe, possibly for the first time since he presented as an omega at fifteen. He could probably save some coin on blockers too, only buying enough to supply him for when he and Geralt separated for the winter.

But there was no use thinking too far ahead. Jaskier never did. They’d take it one day at a time, as always. He and his alpha.

Happy, sated, and pleasantly sore, Jaskier drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Catch me over on tumblr at [ohblessit](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ohblessit).


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